


Unlocked

by propinquitine



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: mcsmooch, First Kiss, M/M, Prison, imminent gladiator duel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-17
Updated: 2010-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:34:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24813901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/propinquitine/pseuds/propinquitine
Summary: "You have one minute," the guard said, unlocking Rodney's cell and nodding to John. "Then it's into the ring with you."
Relationships: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	Unlocked

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to M. for the prompt and the beta.

The clomp of the guard's boots echoed down the hallway, giving Rodney just enough warning to stow the shiv he'd been working on in the waistband of his trousers. He tried to arrange himself nonchalantly on the rickety cot that occupied most of the space in his small cell. (The cot was ricketier now that he'd pried off one of the metal struts, but he couldn't very well make a shiv out his blanket, and that was pretty much the only other thing in the cell that wasn’t nailed down. Rodney just hoped the cot didn't collapse while the guards were around.)

"Well? Back for more questioning? I'll tell you right now, I _still_ don't know what this Co'hail League thing is supposed to be, I have no idea what they're planning, and I can't--" He broke off as the guard came into view, pulling a very bedraggled-looking John with him. "Sheppard, what--"

"You have one minute," the guard said, unlocking Rodney's cell and nodding to John. "Then it's into the ring with you."

"No, wait, what?" Rodney asked, getting to his feet. He’d overheard some of the other guards discussing the national past time while they conducted their patrols; from what he could gather, the sport involved some kind of gladiator-style deathmatch, which took place in the large amphitheater-shaped building he’d spotted right before they’d been ambushed.

The guard grinned at him. "Your husband here will be facing Kistos in his eleventh match. No one's lasted this long in living memory. Losing to Kistos will be an honorable death for your man. And I've got a soft heart," he said, winking at Rodney as he shoved John not-quite-roughly into the cell. "I couldn't deny his request to say goodbye. Just be quick about it," he said to John before turning his back.

Rodney looked at John, who had a deep gash along his hairline that looked barely scabbed over. His face was mottled with bruises, and he looked exhausted. _Husband?_ he mouthed silently.

"I just had to see you," John muttered through clenched teeth, his leg irons clinking as he shuffled closer.

John was grimacing, jaw tense and mouth set, and Rodney had a horrifyingly vivid mental image of the guards taking turns working John over. John probably had a broken rib, broken _teeth_ , organ failure -- he shook his head, trying to clear it. "God, John, what are we going to do?"

Even with the whole "husband" ruse, Rodney was definitely not expecting the response: John grasped his head in both hands and brought his mouth down on Rodney's, kissing him hot and messy and open, and Rodney had teased him over the years about moving fast with the ladies ( _and men, hey?_ ), but this was unprecedented. John was doing something complicated with his tongue – either that was a highly advanced maneuver or John was _really_ awkward -- and he tasted tangy, metallic. Rodney had just enough time to think _Ew, is that blood?_ before he felt something hard and serrated being pushed into his mouth.

Rodney's surprised grunt was muffled against John's mouth, and Rodney hoped like hell that their guard interpreted it as a lover's sob or something, because that was a _key_ being delivered to his mouth, the key to his cell most likely, and how the hell had John gotten a hold of that? Rodney shifted the bit of metal in his mouth, trying to tuck it between his cheek and his teeth, and wished for a moment that his mouth were actually as big as people always said it was.

John pulled back far enough to make eye contact. "You'll be able to go on?" he asked, voice rough, and maybe it was just the proximity, the combination of the dire situation and John’s breath on his face, but Rodney had to pause, had to quell the swooping sensation in his stomach and remind himself that he wasn't a poor prospective widow sending her beloved off to die, he was Rodney McKay, damn it, and he was in fact in the middle of a plan to _save_ his -- to save John. This was no time to get distracted by . . . things.

He nodded. "I'll, uh," he whispered back, trying to figure out the code for _slip out the moment it's clear, run to the gate, and call down a hundred C4-toting Marines onto this godforsaken planet, just don't get killed before I can get back_. "I'll be with you and, um, _semper fidelis_?"

"That would be great, buddy," John said, glancing over his shoulder at the guard. "But you should move on. Not, um, pine for me"

"Like hell I will," Rodney hissed, the words garbled almost beyond recognition. "You just, you know, hang on, and, and -- " he glared and gritted his teeth around the key, which hopefully got his point across. He was coming back, damn it.

"Rodney," John said, shaking his head with a small, sad smile. He didn't say anything else, just stood there looking bemused as their last few seconds ticked away. Then, just as their guard started rattling the cell door to indicate that their time was up, John leaned forward and pressed a quick, dry kiss to Rodney's lips.

"All right, that's it, time to go," the guard said, pulling John out of the cell. "If I give you any more time, it'll be me in the ring." He chuckled and prodded John into motion.

"No!" Rodney yelled down the hall after them; John waved at him, whether in farewell or to warn Rodney not to drop the key, he couldn't tell. Rodney banged his hand against the cell in frustration as they turned the corner, out of sight.

The corridor was quiet, the other cells as empty as when they'd first brought him here, the other guards probably sneaking off to watch Kistos's historic victory, but Rodney still turned his back to the door when he spit out the key. As he looked at the two inches of metal glinting in his palm, he wasn't thinking about how far it was to the gate, or how he was only armed with a somewhat-pointy metal spike, or how he was only eighty percent sure that there was enough clearance around the gate to get a jumper through. No, he was thinking about the kiss, the _real_ one, and how after all these years, John Sheppard still really sucked at saying goodbye.

"Bastard," he murmured to himself. "You're not getting out of this that easily." And Rodney got to work.  


**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted in the McSmooch community on Livejournal: https://mcsmooch.livejournal.com/187154.html .


End file.
